Jeans on Friday
by Sorrel
Summary: Cally Kent has a Martian in her kitchen, Chloe sulking in New York, and Luthor bugging her about dinner. Plus there's that whole saving the world thing they just did. It takes a lot out of a girl. CallyChloe, implied CallyLex. genderswitch, femmeslash.


**Jeans on Friday.**

* * *

Sneaking a six-foot-and-change green alien into her apartment was actually a lot less complicated than Cally would have thought it'd be. As cool abilities went, shape shifting was pretty high on the list.

"You make a pretty good Lois, actually," Cally told him as she unlocked her door. "Though you're missing some of the attitude."

J'onn stepped inside, and when she had closed the door behind him, let himself flow back once more into his true form- not the humanish one he'd put on earlier, but the vaguely insectile shape that she knew was his real body. "I do not think that it would come naturally to me."

Cally looked at him- large, green, strangely tranquil considering his entire life had been gone for centuries and he was on a planet that had tried to imprison him for the crime of wanting to help. "No, I don't think so either."

J'onn nodded and looked around the apartment. "This is your home?"

Cally winced and started stacking books on the coffee table. It'd been… a while since she'd had time to clean up properly. "Yeah. I know it isn't much, and it's probably a little cramped for two, but I figure it's the least I can do until we can get you a legal identity and you can find a place of your own."

"Hmm." J'onn didn't move to sit down, or explore, or… anything, really. "I believe there is still much for me to learn about your Earth. I would not have considered the lack of identification. On Mars, it was not needed, as one's identity was unmistakable."

Cally winced again. "Um, yeah. We can't really read each other's minds here on Earth, so… ID." He had a sudden and terrifying image of J'onn behind the wheel of a car. "But the driver's license can probably wait."

J'onn just looked at her. "As you say."

Yeah. That was going to start being uncomfortable really fast. "Okay, so, um, make yourself at home, and I'm going to go make some phone calls, okay? I've kind of been off the grid for a few days."

J'onn just nodded, and headed for the kitchen. Cally thought briefly of all the ways he could get into trouble in there, then decided that she just didn't want to know, and headed for the phone.

Lois was first, of course, because Lois was probably frothing at the mouth right about now. She tended to get a little annoyed when her partner disappeared for days at a time. Not that Cally had any experience with that particular conversation, or anything. Not at all.

Luckily, it rang through to voicemail. "Lois Lane, you know the drill."

_Beep._ "Hey, Lois, it's me. Just checking in to make sure that everything's okay. Call me later, or I'll see you tomorrow." No, tomorrow was a Saturday. Reprieve. "Make that Monday. Anyway." She cleared her throat, feeling awkward even without Lois on the other end of the line. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

The next call was to Chloe, which was only marginally less urgent because Chloe was perfectly capable of watching the news to know that she was okay. "Hey, Chlo, it's me."

"Cally! It's about damned time you called me. What's going on?"

Cally sighed and let herself relax onto the couch. "I'm fine; so's everyone else. We've been a little busy with the clean-up, you know."

"Too busy to call your girlfriend?" There was a pause where Cally tried to figure out what answer would piss Chloe off the least, and then there was an irritated sigh that was probably accompanied by a little hand-wave, as if she was shooing her annoyance away with sheer force of will. "No, nevermind, I get it. So when are you coming over?"

She could be in New York in less than a minute. She could be naked in Chloe's bed half a second after that. The idea pulled at her, almost irresistibly, but then a subtly ominous clunking noise from the kitchen reminded her why it was impossible. "I can't. I… kind of have a houseguest."

Another dangerous pause. "And I'm sure you're going to explain that aaaany second now."

"J'onn. The Martian who helped us defeat the White Martians? He doesn't really have any place to stay, and I offered him the couch, and he's kinda new to this planet-"

"And you can't resist looking after him any more than any of the stray dogs that wandered onto the farm when you were sixteen."

Cally cast an uneasy glance to the kitchen doorway, unhappily aware that J'onn probably knew every word that was being said. "He's not exactly the same as a stray dog, Chloe."

"Yeah, yeah. Same principle applies, though. They look all lonely and pathetic, and you just can't resist."

J'onn hadn't looked pathetic in the least. In fact, Cally had a hard time imagining the man- alien- whatever- as anything less than entirely capable. But- "He's the last of his kind. The rest of his people were killed when the White Martians invaded."

There was another pause, this one less palpably about Chloe bringing the hurt. "Oh, Cal," Chloe said softly. "Someday you're going to get past being the Last Daughter of Krypton."

Yeah, but it wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Cally predicted she'd get around to that some handful of decades after she stopped wearing the crest of the House of El on her chest. "He needed somewhere to stay."

Chloe sighed gustily, the rush of air over the receiver grating slightly against Cally's sensitive ears. "No, I get it. I totally get it. But you're going to owe me, babe. You're going to owe me big time."

Cally allowed herself a foolish grin. "Cappola's, eight o'clock Monday?"

"And you're buying," Chloe confirmed. "Also, I'm expecting a dress. I_demand_ a dress."

"And I hear and obey," Cally laughed. "Thanks, honey. I'll see you then."

"You'd better," Chloe said, and hung up. Always had to get the last word, her.

J'onn came out of the kitchen, his oddly-jointed hands occupied with something blue and… crinkly? "Superwoman. You did not mention Earth's food when you asked me to stay."

Cally peered a little closer, and saw… Oreo's? Seriously? "Uh. We have a pretty big variety of things, and I didn't know what would appeal to your taste buds." Did Martians even have taste buds? "I'm glad that you found something you liked."

"They are akin to the nectar of the h'tlek flower," J'onn said solemnly. "I have never tasted their equal."

Ooookaaay, then. "Well, I'm glad that you found something you liked, but watch out that you don't eat too many of them. You'll probably lose your figure."

J'onn blinked at her. "I have lost my figure many times, Superwoman. It is, in fact, one of my greatest talents."

"No, I meant-" The phone rang. "Nevermind." Saved by the bell. Then she looked at the readout on the caller ID and cursed. Routed through the Fortress, which meant that this was cape business, but the call originated in Metropolis, and that could only be one person. Of all the inconvenient times-

"Hello, Superwoman."

Ah, the dulcet tones of the biggest pains in her ass. If by dulcet, one meant "smarmy." "Luthor. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a few ideas…" He trailed off into a chuckle when she snorted. "But, alas, you're probably not interested in those. Although if you ever change your mind-"

Some people never changed. Then again, if he did stop flirting with her, she'd probably take it as a sign of the impending apocalypse. "Yes, yes, I know where to find you. We've had this little talk before, Luthor. The answer stays the same. What can I help you with that_doesn't_ involve me losing my uniform?"

Luthor laughed again, low and touchable, but when he spoke again, his voice was all business. "As I'm sure you know, the White Martians have destroyed a rather significant portion of our fair city."

Of course she knew. She'd _been there._ "Along with several other cities around the world, yes. What's your point?" He could never just _say_ what he wanted.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll be heading the reconstruction movement here in Metropolis. I was hoping that you would be available for a certain amount of ribbon-cutting, when it comes to that."

Superwoman's presence always was a big draw, and she and Luthor were both old hands at this particular game. "You know I will be. You didn't need to waste my valuable time to call me weeks ahead of time and ask when you already knew the answer."

"Perhaps I simply wanted to hear your voice," Luthor said. "I'll see you tomorrow." And she could hear the smile in his own before the line went dead.

Chloe wasn't the only person who insisted on having the last word.

* * *

The next morning Cally was woken up by a furious pounding on her door. Groaning, she rolled over and looked at the clock- ten am. Fuck. She'd overslept.

She snagged a robe before heading out into the living room. J'onn was standing near the door, looking indecisive. Sensing imminent disaster, she shooed him away from the door and called, "Who is it?"

"It's your partner, you slugabed. Open the damn door."

Lois. Cally shot a panicked glance at J'onn, who still looked as alien as they came, and then looked frantically around the apartment. Who could she-

There. The picture on her mantel, the third from the left. Cally pointed silently and called, "Just a second, Lois!"

"Why, what are you doing in there?"

That was suspicion. God, she didn't need Lois suspicion aimed her direction, not right now. "Just hold on, okay?"

She breezed through her room and got dressed in a second, and came back out to find J'onn looking like… Bruce. Um. "Wrong person," she mouthed, and pointed at the picture again. "I'm coming!"

J'onn shifted again just in time before Cally unlocked the door and Lois came stamping in, her hands tucked protectively up under her arms. "Took you long enough. It's freaking cold out there. Hasn't your super heard of a little thing called central heating?" Then Lois caught sight of her visitor. "Smallville, you didn't mention that you had company."

J'onn smiled at her with Dick's face took his cue from Cally's thoughts, frantically beamed in his direction. "Yeah, just rolled in for a visit last night. Seemed like Metropolis could use a little help, you know?"

Lois arched her eyebrow at Cally. "And he's not staying in a hotel… why, exactly?"

"Because he's a_friend,_ Lois," Cally sighed. "You do remember what friends are, right? They're those people who actually volunteer to be around you, despite your… forceful personality." She smirked. "I know it's been a while, but your memory isn't _that_ bad."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Lois said, flapping a hand. "I'm married to my job. _Speaking_ of which," she continued, and Cally took a deep breath of relief and thought _very loudly_ for J'onn to leave the room, because they were off the hook for now but Cally was hoping that out of sight really was out of mind in this case. "Where the hell were you during all this? There was _news_ happening, and you couldn't even answer your damned phone!"

Well, she'd been a little busy, y'know, saving the world. Just a hobby on the side, really. "I was out with my family in Smallville," she said meekly. "What with the alien invasion and all, it wasn't like I was going to drive _back_ into Metropolis." Most sane people had been running _away_ from Metropolis. Cally was insane, and therefore she'd been flying back _in._ "Some things really are more important to me than a story, Lois. Like my life."

"Hmmph," said Lois, who'd never really gotten that particular concept. Which was why Superwoman had ended up rescuing her so many times. "Well, you're here now, so I guess we'll just have to make the best of it. Where do you want to start?"

"How about _when._ Like, say, on Monday?" Cally grabbed her arm and started leading her to the door. "The world almost ended. Let me enjoy my weekend."

"Sacrilege," Lois grumbled, but she let herself be led. It had taken a lot of work, but Cally had eventually managed to make her realize that when it came to the important things, like days off, Cally really was more stubborn than she was. "Fine. But you better be ready to work."

"_Monday,_ Lois," Cally said with one last eye roll, and shoved her out the door.

Then locked it.

J'onn emerged from the bedroom, once again looking like himself. "I apologize for my earlier error."

Cally grasped at nothing for a few frantic seconds, trying to remember what- oh. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Bruce Wayne is kind of… well, famous. He's really rich, and the chances of him mysteriously being in my apartment are about a million to one." She winced again at the thought of Lois' face if J'onn hadn't shifted in time. "Lois is a little gung-ho about things she can't explain, and Bruce Wayne, here? That she'd have a little trouble explaining."

J'onn nodded, absorbing this. "And this young man whose face I wore. She would not question his presence?"

"Well, he's sort of… stayed with me before," Cally temporized. She liked Dick, had always enjoyed his company on the rare occasion that she'd worked with Robin, and she'd been glad to offer her couch when he'd left Gotham. She wasn't sure how much help she'd actually been, but he'd chosen a Kryptonian hero as his new masked identity, so on the whole, she tended to see that as a good sign. "It's still a little suspicious- like she said, Dick probably would have gone to a hotel, not my place- but it's something she probably wouldn't question too hard." She shuddered, briefly. "And trust me, you don't want Lois questioning things too hard. It never ends well."

"I see." J'onn didn't look like he actually saw anything, but that was alright. He'd learn soon enough.

"Anyway. Today I'm going to get the ball rolling on getting you some ID, but first I need to have some sort of photograph." J'onn looked blank. "Preferably of you looking a little less, um…"

"Alien?" J'onn supplied, then looked amused when she winced. "Do not worry, I am not offended. You yourself pose as a human being when you are not in uniform, do you not?"

Cally thought about all of the complicated answers to that question, the complexities and fluid nature of personal identity, and the fact that Cally Kent was more real than Kal-El of Krypton, even when she was in uniform…

…but then she decided that some things probably couldn't be explained, and just said, "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then that will be acceptable. I assume that the face I choose will be permanent during my time among the humans?"

Well, she could probably get another ID for him pretty quickly… But that would involve owing Alistair yet another favor. Definitely something to avoid. "Unless it becomes a problem, yeah, that'll be your civilian identity."

J'onn nodded. "Then if you will excuse me, I will need some time to consider. This is not a decision I would wish to make lightly."

Choosing the body you'll be living in for the rest of the foreseeable future... no, not a choice you wanted to make lightly _at all._ She considered laughing hysterically, but knew that he wouldn't understand why. Some things were buried so deeply in her mind that even a telepath wouldn't be able to get at them.

"I couldn't agree more," she finally said, and mustered up a smile for him. "The bathroom has a full-length mirror, if you need it."

"I appreciate it," J'onn said gravely, and left the room. Cally sat down on the couch and started planning out her day.

She'd have to set things in motion with Alistair, make sure that he understood that this would have to be his best work, which was very fine indeed. He'd been the one to perfect her own falsified records, which was why he wasn't in jail. She wasn't going to risk J'onn getting tagged with a fake. He had enough problems with this planet already.

She'd probably have to put in at least a few hours of actual reporting, or Lois would eat her alive on Monday. An exclusive interview with Superwoman, detailing an insider's view of the White Martian invasion, would look pretty nice on the front page, she thought.

Of course, there was still a lot of work to be done. Metropolis was in shambles, and the cleanup crew could probably use Superwoman's help putting the city to rights. It'd take weeks for everything to be done, but she could make things go a little faster, a little easier. This was her city. It needed her help.

Then she looked down at herself, and saw… a robe. Worn over pretty much nothing.

Maybe she should get dressed first.

* * *

That night, because it was a Saturday night, Cally went to dinner.

She wasn't sure when this had become such an ironclad tradition. Surely, somewhere along the line she should have stopped and realized, "You know, I'm having dinner with Lex Luthor a little too often. This is starting to feel a little too much like a regular thing. Perhaps I should stop." But no, it hadn't occurred to her till much later, and by the time she'd looked around and realized that she had a standing dinner date with someone who had never met a law he didn't like to break, it was too late. Saturday evenings with Lex was something that was already fixed in stone.

She'd wondered if she could maybe weasel out of it this week, but his last comment before hanging up yesterday had told her otherwise. Apparently, even a little thing like the (near) end of the world as they knew it wasn't enough of an excuse to skip dinner.

Ah, well. Maybe there'd be pork chops. She liked pork chops.

She landed on the balcony of Luthor's penthouse apartment and found the doors, as always, to be unlocked. Hope was lurking on the other side of the door, but she just nodded when Cally came in, her gun still secured in her holster. She only started threatening to shoot when Cally had recently gotten Lex arrested, which hadn't happened in a couple years. They were mostly on good terms these days.

"Kal, welcome. I was starting to think that you'd be late."

He always called her Kal, warmly familiar like it was his very own pet name, instead of her birthright. Luthor presumed more than anyone else she knew, even Batman, and for some reason she'd never been able to put him back in his place. In theory their relationship was supposed to be purely business, but his almost reassuringly consistent seduction attempts had become just another part of her life, just like annoying phone calls and Saturday dinners. He flirted, she shot him down, they shared meals and fundraisers and heated political "discussions" and somehow, along the line, he'd become the steadiest and most predictable part of her life. No matter what else happened, at least Luthor would still act like Luthor. Anything else would be like the Sun rising in the West.

"It's been a busy day," she told him. The table was already set for dinner- not the expansive formal one in the dining room, but the smaller, more intimate setting off the kitchen- and she brushed past Luthor and headed for her seat, calling over her shoulder, "I'd like to see you out there, sifting through the rubble."

Luthor raised an eyebrow as he caught up to her and held out her chair. She scowled, but allowed him to seat her, before taking his own seat across the table. "Who do you think is paying all of the relief workers? It's certainly not City Council."

"Believe it or not, you can't solve everything by throwing money at it."

He smirked. "When you manage to prove that, please, let me know."

"Hah. It might do you some good to come down out of your tower once in a while."

"I feel no need to observe the sad plight of my fellow man on the streets," Luthor said. "A little distance and objectivity might do _you_ some good."

She leaned her cheek into her hand. "If I can't understand people, I can't help them."

"A fallacy," he said, uncorking the wine with flawless grace. "For one, understanding is unnecessary to human aid efforts. Rich people write checks at charity functions every day, and you can't possibly believe they have any understanding of the human condition. But their money is still just as good."

"But it's the people who take their money and put it to good use who are really making the difference," Cally argued. She paused to take a sip of her wine- light, crisp, and sweet. A perfect choice, as usual. "And those people _do_ have plenty of understanding for the people they help. Without it, they'd have no idea how to best allocate the funds."

"That as may be, but it's still possible to understand someone without trying to walk a mile in their shoes. All it requires is imagination and knowledge of human nature."

Intrigued, she leaned forward. "How so?"

"People are inherently selfish," he said easily. "Only those who live in comfort have the luxury of contemplating charity. The rest of the world focuses on getting everything they can, as fast as they can get it. Once you know that, the rest is simple. Calculating the necessary charities, the quickest way to improve the squalor of poor city living, is just a matter of tactics."

She might have been surprised at his cynicism, except for the fact that a) she'd known him for longer than five minutes, and b) she'd known Batman for longer than five minutes. Lois and Chloe weren't much better. She was surrounded by cynics.

"That little speech might sound a bit better if you hadn't been raised in the slums yourself, you know."

He smiled over the rim of his wineglass. "But I never felt anything in common with my so-called 'fellow' man. I was always destined for better things."

"Which you got by taking everything you could get, as fast as you could get it. See? You and your fellow man have plenty in common."

"But most never find the way out," Luthor said.

"And that's why I'll never stop trying to understand why," she countered.

He conceded the point with a wry twist of his lips and raised his wineglass. "To understanding, then," he said. "May you find what you seek."

"I'll drink to that," she said, and clinked her glass against his. "So, what's for dinner?"

He gave her another smile, this one sneaky and maybe a little bit embarrassed. Luthor had a never-ending variety of smiles; she'd die of old age before she'd catalogued them all. "Pork chops," he said.

She couldn't help it. She laughed.

* * *

Monday night, Cally managed to stop three muggings and one attempted rape on her way out of Metropolis. She was actually running a little early for a change, and figured that Chloe wouldn't begrudge the few moments that it took to fight a little crime.

Finished with the last few minutes of her patrol, grabbed her purse from her apartment and zipped over to New York, keeping low and silent over the rooftops as she headed in for Chloe's building. She really, really didn't want to get the whole, "Look! Up in the sky!" this evening, when Superwoman didn't normally venture out of Metropolis except for major emergencies and natural disasters. The less people questioned how much time Cally Kent spent in New York City and how, exactly, she got there, the better.

She made a quick landing in an alley, an even quicker change into her dress after a check to make sure that no one was watching, and then a last-minute check to make sure that her hair and makeup had survived the trip, and then headed out the alley and down the street to the restaurant. She peaked at her watch to make sure- 8:02. She'd had to fly a little slower than usual, so she wouldn't have to duck into a bathroom somewhere and redo her hair. Either way, not too bad.

The interior of Cappola's was warm and semi-dark, all shadows and candlelight and a statistically improbable number of booths tucked into corners, away from the public eye. It was designed, naturally, for the perfect dinner date, which was why Cally and Chloe were here almost every other week. Their relationship was complicated enough; they needed all the help they could get when it came to "dating" after all the years they'd been together.

Chloe gave her a little half-smile when the host led her to their usual table, near the back of the restaurant. "Cally. That's a lovely dress."

Cally smiled back, shifting the long skirt of the dress out of the way as she took her seat. "I've been saving it for a rainy day. Today seemed like a good time to take it on its maiden voyage."

"Well, I certainly appreciate it," Chloe said, her eyes tracing the neckline of the dress. "It's a nice color. Not primary."

It was a deep, rich green, some kind of poly blend that LuthorCorp had started producing for mass-market consumption. Luthor always mocked her as being colorblind, and had spent months trying to convert her into the joys of jewel-toned clothing. Supposing that anyway who could wear a lavender shirt and make it look stylish probably knew his way around the color spectrum, she'd bought this dress weeks ago, just waiting for the right time to spring it on Chloe.

"Every once in a while, I can listen to advice," Cally said. "And may I say, you don't look too bad yourself?"

Chloe dimpled and ducked her chin coquettishly. "You may."

Chloe's sharp red business suit was probably left over from work. She believed in dressing for success, whereas Cally usually went for the "shapeless paper bag" school of fashion when it came to the workplace. Chloe always managed to look flawless, perfectly put-together, her face like a perfect china doll under layers of careful makeup that took almost half an hour to apply in the mornings. She looked like she belonged behind an anchor desk on TV, not at her messy, crowded little desk at the Times office.

She looked beautiful, as always. Just like a real girl. Cally felt gawky and disjointed just sitting across from her, even with her pretty new dress. She remembered back in high school, when Chloe's hair had looked like porcupine quills and she'd worn silly t-shirts and thrift-store jackets, and she'd made Cally feel like she didn't have to worry too much about what kind of girl she was. She wished they still that kind of casual, jeans-and-t-shirt femininity, before they'd gone their own ways, before they lived in different cities, before everything became a battlefield and every decision was compromise, compromise, compromise.

This was what being an adult was like, and Cally had had plenty of years to get used to being one. But she missed the way it used to be, when they could talk about everything, and argue without it meaning anything, and come home together and save the world by word and pen, not just by punching the bad guy. That's what she'd always thought her life would be like. Just dinner, and conversation, and laughter.

"-and anyway, it's not like Seward doesn't know how to write, exactly, it's just that he wouldn't know a semicolon if it bit him on the ass," Chloe was saying. Cally took a sip of the wine Chloe had ordered before her arrival- some sort of heavy red, a little cheap. Chloe never remembered that she liked white wine better. "It's a wonder the editors haven't strangled him in his sleep. He naps in the break room often enough; it's not like they're lacking for opportunities."

"Murder is such a tacky way to solve your problems," Cally murmured, and Chloe laughed, her eyes over bright with the glass or two she'd probably had before Cally had gotten there. The bottle was definitely looking a little low.

"Well, I don't really think being tacky is the main concern of the editing staff, but you never know," Chloe chuckled. "Anyway, enough about my partner's issues with punctuation. You promised me you'd tell me all about the battle."

Actually, Cally didn't remember making any promises except for the dress. But… it didn't matter. This was Chloe. This was her girlfriend. She was supposed to tell her these things.

"It was nothing much," she said. "Just another Friday. Tell me more about your partner."

end.


End file.
